


Old Hurts

by Anonymous



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: While out on a mission to take back the Commonwealth, synthetic pain gets a little too real for Valentine and Hancock.





	1. Chapter 1

They made it to Outpost Zimonja as scheduled, without too much trouble. Nicky insisted on reconning the place, which sounded like a lot of work when they could have just stuck each other with Med-X and berzerked through everything short of a brick wall.

 

Hancock was itching for a little fun.

  
When Nick returned to the little hidey hole they'd found on the rocky outcropping behind the outpost he pantomimed stabbing a needle into his arm. Nick didn't roll his eyes exactly, because his eyes didn't work that way, but he had that look on his face that made sure you knew he would if he could, so Hancock pantomimed flipping him the bird.  
  
"Looks like just raiders," Nick said, ignoring him. "No turrets, no critters." He rubbed his good hand across his forehead and then propped up his chin. "Should be straight forward."  
  
Hancock scoffed. "Oh please. There is nothing straight about me."  
  
And to illustrate his point he jumped down from the outcropping and shotgunned a raider in the back of the head.  
  
Before Nick could yell at him, which he knew was coming, he swung around a power pylon, skipping over the garbage that lay all around, and took out another raider who came running toward the noise. Took his head clean off. Almost magical. He turned to see if Nick saw that. Nick was swinging himself over the rocks. Did he get the joke? Was that possibly too subtle? Did he see how Hancock took that guy's entire head off?  
  
"Did you see?" he called back, and that was when he heard the familiar whistle of an approaching mini nuke.  
  
"Shit," he said, and Nick looked at him with raised eyebrows that surely meant, you are an idiot, and then the explosion threw him clear of the outpost.


	2. Chapter 2

He sat up and then fell back down and immediately knew something was seriously seriously wrong. He was lying on the ground and he wasn't sure where he was and when he went for a puff of jet he realized his coat was ripped and his drugs had gotten spilled everywhere. Even the mentats had popped out of their tin and lay scattered around sadly.  
  
"Nicky," he said, and when there wasn't an answer he yelled, "Nicky!"  
  
"Sit tight," Nick's voice called from a distance. "I'm on my way."  
  
That made him feel a little bit better. His drugs were still looking sad, dumped all over the place, and...  
  
"I can't walk," he said, the realization crashing down on him like a super mutant falling off the skybridge. "Nicky, I can't walk."  
  
"Yeah, that'll happen when you walk right into a missile like that." Nick slid down the rocky incline, sending pebbles bouncing down around him.  
  
He couldn't even move his legs. "Oh my god, Nicky. I can't walk."  
  
"Relax. It's nothing a stimpack can't fix."  
  
"I can't feel my fricking legs, Valentine."  
  
Nick slid to a kneeling stop at Hancock's side. "With the amount of mentats you take I'm surprised you can feel anything."  
  
"That's not funny."  
  
"I didn't mean it as a joke." Nick took a stim out of the pocket of his coat, pulled the coat itself tight around him, and stuck the needle deep into Hancock's shoulder. "Now, what did we learn?"  
  
"Shoot the guy with the rocket launcher first?"  
  
Nick sighed and shook his head. "Better than nothing, I guess."  
  
His arms felt weird and wobbly but he stuck his arms up anyway and grabbed onto Nick. At least he could still move some of his limbs.  
  
"Chin up," Nick told him. "You'll be fine. I'll roll you down a hill to the glowing sea and you'll be good as new."  
  
"Not funny."  
  
"Again, not a joke." Nick pulled the stim back out and the tiny wound it left sealed itself. "Come on, let's get out of the dirt."  
  
Nick scooped him up with that weird synth strength and carried him easily over the hill to the outpost. There was a bed laid out at the top of the shelter stairs--one bed? for all those raiders to share? fantastic--and Nick set him down on it.  
  
"You just sit tight." Nick absentmindedly touched the front of his coat and winced. "I'm gonna get a perimeter going."  
  
"No. Stay." He latched onto Nick's arm. "I'm needy."  
  
"I gathered that much." Nick pulled away a little too sharply. "You'll be find for twenty minutes."  
  
He knew he was being silly, acting against his usual MO, but damned if he cared. His legs weren't working and even with the feeling coming back into them he was more agonized than relieved. He grabbed out again and got hold of Nick's coat. Something ripped and a button bounced away as Nick yanked the coat tighter around him.  
  
"Damn it," he said. He didn't sound very angry now, just sort of tired and sad. It made Hancock even more uneasy.  
  
"Nick?" he asked, but Nick waved him off.  
  
"Sorry. Shouldn't have snapped at you." Nick's steel fingers pinched the front of his coat closed. "Just... just take a nap or something. I'll be back in a bit."  
  
He waked away, around a barricade and out of sight, leaving Hancock suspecting he'd lost something in translation. He was missing some important part of the puzzle and he'd upset Nick because of it.  
  
Slowly, feeling even worse, he dug out some jet from a still-intact pocket and let the puff of the inhaler carry him away.  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

He woke up groggy from what he'd thought was a doze to find it was dark and the stars were out.  
  
He sat up on the mattress and carefully gave each leg a kick. He could move them! This was truly the best thing to happen to him since he fell through a rotten wall in the Rexford and found two dozen Calmex syringes.  
  
He flopped back on the mattress--the gross, grimy mattress--for a moment before he realized: Nick was no where to be seen.  
  
He sat back up at that. The outpost was quiet, which meant the raiders hadn't come back. Didn't smell like mutants, not that his sense of smell was so great...  
  
No, he decided. Probably nothing had happened. Probably he'd just napped a little too long and Nick had taken watch for him. That was almost definitely what happened.  
  
Just chill out, he told himself, and reached for a Calmex before he remembered the chems dumped all over the ground. He checked his pockets and all he found was a pair of Med-X syringes and a half-empty jar of buff-out.  
  
Great.  
  
His first instinct was to yell for Nick and see who responded, but he thought of the mini-nuke to the face, the chewing-out Nick had given him, and he decided not to do that. He took his shotgun and crept out into the twilight.  
  
He checked out the junk pile what could be generously described as the courtyard. Didn't seem like much had moved, but then how would he have known? Then he moved on to the southern face of the outpost. All quiet except a deceptively rickety-appearing turret keeping watch.  
  
"Good turret," he mumbled, giving it a pat up top. The turret continued its sweep of the trail south.  
  
It was eerie out here alone. Quiet. He wasn't a big fan of quiet. It was so quiet that even when he was distracted by that big-ass antenna he heard Nick's voice say, very quietly, "Christ."  
  
"Nicky?" He rounded a corner and although Nick scrambled to close his trenchcoat over himself Hancock got an eyeful of mutilated synthetic flesh. "Oh, shit!"  
  
Nick struggled to hold his coat closed and rolled to his back at the foot of the cinder block wall. His eyes fluttered open. "Looks worse than it is." He spoke like his mouth was swollen.  
  
"Lemme see." Even though it was out of sight now Hancock could still see it in his mind: Nicky torn open, his insides broken. He reached for the coat.  
  
"Don't." Nick twisted away. He was tucked up against the wall, couldn't move far, but there was something in his voice that froze Hancock in place. "I can take care of it."  
  
Hancock found he couldn't speak. This had to have happened when they fought the raiders. He must have gotten hurt and then he'd had to carry his sorry ass back to the outpost even when he was so bad hurt.  
  
"John."  
  
Somehow his eyes met Nick's.  
  
"If it were that bad," he said quietly, "I would radio Sturges. I know how it looks but this is normal."  
  
"Shit, Nicky." He sat down with a bump. "And I thought I was falling apart."  
  
Nick laughed at that, but it was a sad, tired laugh and Hancock didn't feel any better. "If it helps, it's... I just got some wires crossed. It's not even a new wound."  
  
"Can I help?"  
  
Nick smiled at him, but there was fear in the smile. "Ah..." His voice cracked on the sound.  
  
"I mean, I know you're having trouble. Just tell me what to do and I can do it."  
  
Nick closed his eyes and his mouth twisted into a shadow of the smile.  
  
"It's okay, though, if you don't trust me. I know it's probably all technical. I wouldn't want some junkie ghoul poking around in my insides either."  
  
"'s not that." For a moment Nick looked so small and sad there, huddled against the wall. The night was so quiet they could hear the turret still keeping watch, and Hancock heard the small, pained grunt that Nick tried to keep silent. "You, uh... you really want to do this, huh?"  
  
That was the funny thing. He really, really didn't. Maybe it was the lack of drugs in his system, but he wanted to get the hell out of there. He didn't want to see Nick like this! It was like... like walking in on a compromising situation. But if Nick needed help he couldn't just let him fall apart on his own.  
  
Nick groaned softly. The lights of his eyes dimmed for a moment.  
  
"Whatever you need, Nicky."  
  
"Okay." Even though his voice sounded relieved he seemed to wilt. "Okay, sure. Just don't..." But he didn't finish the thought. Instead he looked away and gingerly opened his coat.  
  
Nick's shirt was open, unbuttoned, so there was nothing between Hancock and the gaping wound in Nick's belly. Even Hancock, who had more holes in him than was healthy, had to wince. It was clearly a piercing wound, a through and through. There were gouges missing from the pipes and tubes where whatever had stabbed him had nicked his insides. He'd been telling the truth; it was definitely an old wound. After he got that there was no way he'd carried anybody everywhere. It made Hancock feel sick to his stomach.  
  
"When you're done gawping get back to me."  
  
"I'm sorry. It's just... holy shit, Nick."  
  
"Thanks a lot."  
  
He closed his mouth. Nothing he said was going to help.  
  
"I just--ah--I need you to straighten out some wires. Just tape 'em for now and I'll worry about it when I get back to Diamond City. Feels like they're down near the port."  
  
Looking through the hole in Nick's abdomen he could see the port he meant. It was low in him--like, embarrassingly low. Awkward groping on a first hook-up low. Nick very pointedly did not look at him.  
  
"You wanted to help," he growled.  
  
He was pissed. And he had every right to be. Hancock had just barged in and what had he expected? Nick had always kept to himself. He shoulda known when he woke up and Nick wasn't there. Shoulda just left it alone. But he didn't, and he hadn't, and now he was either gonna help or he was gonna let Nick think he was the asshole he already let everybody else think he was.  
  
"I'm sorry. Let me just..."  
  
He made his hand as small as possible and tried to slip it into the hole without touching anything else.  
  
"You won't want to..." Nick started to say, but as he was saying it Hancock brushed against an exposed wire. A sharp snap of electricity jumped between them; Hancock flinched and pulled back. A yelp of pain and fear choked its way out of Nick's throat and he stiffened under Hancock's touch.  
  
"Christ! Nicky, you okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Startled me, is all." His voice sounded strained. "Was trying to say you won't wanna use your bare hands."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Nick kept looking off toward the distance. "Stop apologizing, would ya? Just get it done if you're gonna do it."  
  
Shut up, Hancock told himself. Just shut up and do what he asks you to do. He wrapped up his hands in his sleeves and gingerly eased one into the hole in Nick's abdomen. He could still feel the pulse of the electricity through the coat, but what difference did that make? Nick didn't make a sound, so it must not have hurt him too bad. He twisted the ends of the wire together and went for another one. This one was deeper down, and he had to brace one hand against Nick to lean down and get up in there. That was a hell of a humiliation right there. He wasn't anywhere near high enough to be able to screw around with his arm shoved down Nick's innards.  
  
"You got it," Nick said at last. He still wasn't looking at him, but hell, Hancock didn't want to make eye contact either. His metal hand let go of the clothes he was holding back and slipped into his pocket. "I'll just tape 'em up. Thanks."  
  
"You sure?" He couldn't help but sound doubtful as Nick drew a thin roll of electrical tape from his pocket. It seemed to him that Nick's metal fingers would conduct electricity just as well as Hancock's bare hands.  
  
"Yeah. Back off a bit. Give me some room to work."  
  
He watched as Nick's slender metal fingers expertly wound around and around the wires without brushing against anything once, and he thought again that Nick would have been fine if he'd just left him alone.  
  
And somehow all the same he wished he had enough electrical tape to bandage up the rest of the holes in Nick's synthetic skin. In fact, he wished he could just heal it all with a snap of his fingers.  
  
When he was done Nick turned onto his side and pulled his coat around himself.  
  
"Thanks," he said.  
  
"You want me to take watch?"  
  
"If you want to and you're feeling up to it. You're the one who took a nuclear missile to the face today."  
  
He'd all but forgotten. "I'm fine. You fixed me up real nice, Nicky."  
  
"It's just a stimpack. I didn't do shit."  
  
Hancock flinched at his tone of voice. "You sure you're okay?"  
  
"Never better."  
  
He didn't look it. He looked like he wanted Hancock to take the next tram to Nuka-World and take a long walk off a short roller coaster. "If I did something wrong... you'd tell me, right?"  
  
Nick didn't answer. He just lay there looking off into the distance, pulling his coat in tight around him, one foot hooked around the opposite ankle. Hancock could still see in his head the wound, the mechanical parts laid bare underneath, but Nick had never looked so... human.  
  
He waited, but Nick said nothing. A couple of ideas went through his head--he should give Nick a stimpack, he should say something comforting--but he didn't know what to say and he wasn't sure they had any more stimpacks. In the end it was easier to head off by himself to higher ground and keep an eye out for problems he could solve with violence.


	4. Chapter 4

He'd kind of expected Nick would come find him, but the sun came over the horizon and the sky turned pink and blue with little white clouds drifting past (pretty, he thought) and even as he was watching that from up on the roof of the radio tower he couldn't see Nick anywhere.  
  
Well, that didn't give him a real good feeling.  
  
He hopped down onto the stairs and headed over to where he'd seen him last. Maybe Nick had gotten to work on one of his little projects, defragging himself or fiddling with his pistol or something. Maybe he wasn't hurt that bad after all.  
  
But when he got closer to that same cinder block wall he heard the small pained noises. His heart was already sinking.  
  
Shit.  
  
Nick hadn't moved all night. He was still lying there, stiff as a board, looking out at the wasteland. He rocked slowly back and forth.  
  
"Nicky?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Hancock froze up at his tone of voice. Nick was polite, sweet even, that was kind of his MO. He didn't snap. But this time his voice was sharp and strained and bitter.  
  
"Goddammit, what? Or is watching just your new hobby?"  
  
Hancock swallowed hard. He opened his mouth to say something smart, but nothing came out. He decided right there that he was going to turn around, go back up the stairs, and pretend none of this was happening. It was a good plan. He was just about to put it into action when Nick broke.  
  
Not like a physical break, wasn't like him blowing out a joint or breaking an arm. No, Nick just put the back of his good wrist to his mouth and the sound that came out of him was strangled and muffled but pained.  
  
"Nick?" Hancock asked again.  
  
"Christ," Nick whispered. He pulled his hand away and brought it down to clutch at his shoulder. "Who the hell makes a robot that can feel pain?"  
  
Hancock sat down beside him. Nick didn't even look up. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"  
  
"No. It's not your problem."  
  
As reassuring as that was (not very) Hancock couldn't help the annoyance that stirred in him. "Well, if you're not gonna be taking your share of watches I think it is my problem."  
  
"Shit." Nick started to push himself up on one arm. "Is it that late? I'll take the watch. Just didn't..."  
  
Hancock bumped his shoulder and he immediately went down. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen."  
  
With a groan Nick curled in on himself.  
  
"I ain't mad. I just want to know what's going on."  
  
Nick groaned again and his eyes closed. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself. "I just... I hurt."  
  
It was only two words but it broke Hancock's irradiated heart. "Need me to find you a stimpack? I don't have one on me but that doesn't mean there aren't any around. Or we can radio back to Sanctuary for Sturges."  
  
"There's nothing he can do."  
  
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Was Nick dying?  
  
"It's just, it's like this sometimes. I put it off as much as I could but I can't anymore."  
  
If Nick died Nora would kill him, Hancock thought to himself, but to his surprise it wasn't really Nora's reaction he was worried about.  
  
"I didn't want to do this til after we were done here."  
  
"Do... what?"  
  
Nick said nothing.  
  
None of this made any sense. "Look, did I do... something? To make all this, whatever this is, happen?"  
  
Nick shook his head. "It's got nothin' to do with you, John."  
  
"So why won't you tell me what's going on?" He didn't get a peep out of Nick, but somehow he had a feeling he already knew the answer. Nick was always like this. Never said jack about what was going on in his head. "If you're not gonna tell me then let me at least get you up to the shack so every scavenger coming down the road doesn't see you." Still nothing. "Nick?"  
  
"Yeah." There was a little hitch to Nick's voice, like... like maybe he was crying. Shit.  
  
"You want me to...?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He expected Nick to be heavy, maybe too heavy to help. But he wasn't. Hancock caught him by the arm and pulled him up on his shoulder--he'd never felt his arm before. The bony frame of his arm felt like it was exposed most of the way up to his shoulder, where his sleeve always covered it. Hancock all but lifted him onto his feet. It felt like he could have crushed Nick's bones like an aluminum can. Made him feel sick.  
  
They limped up to the shelter and it seemed like such a trek he couldn't imagine getting Nick up the stairs to the mattress, so Hancock led him over to the couch across from the workbench. Nick looked so bad he didn't even seem to care that he was lying on two hundred years worth of raider sweat. As he lay down his hat fell into the dirt. Hancock turned to reach for it and instead Nick's frame hand reached out and snagged his wrist.  
  
"'s not your fault, John," he whispered. "It's like this all the time."  
  
"Really? 'Cause it seems like that would make the detecting a struggle."  
  
Nick sighed and shook his head. "Not always this bad. It builds up and I put it off."  
  
Hancock couldn't think of a single clever response to that.  
  
"Being like this..." Nick put his good hand against the gaping wound in his neck that had been there as long as Hancock had known him. "...it hurts like hell. I can't make it not hurt. But I can... I can store it. I don't have to process it right away. It's just, after a while..."  
  
Nick's hand was still hooked around his wrist like a handcuff. Hancock pried his fingers off gently. "Can't put it off forever, huh?"  
  
"That'd make it too easy."  
  
"So... what do you do?"  
  
"Usually? Usually I send Ellie to Goodneighbor for something, lock myself in the office, and just... get it all over with at once."  
  
"Is that what you're doing now?"  
  
Nick chuckled, low and dark and sad. "I ain't even started on my backlog yet. This is just what I can't... what I don't got space to store."  
  
Fantastic. "You want me to get you home?"  
  
Nick shook his head. "Don't think I can make it that far."  
  
"Okay. So what if I radio Ellie, and she can hire an escort or something..."  
  
"No." Nick's voice cracked and buzzed as the word came out. "God no. I can't put this on Ellie."  
  
"So you're going to, what, just power through on your own? Will that even work?"  
  
Nick said nothing.  
  
"If it's going to be so awful until you do it, why don't you just do it now?"  
  
"You..."  
  
"Yeah, me. I ain't much good at electrical engineering or whatever, but I can keep an eye out and kick the ass of anyone who shows up while you're doing what you need to do."  
  
"You don't want to see that."

 

He was rapidly losing his patience. "Who gives a fuck what I want, Nicky? You're the one feeling like crap." Nick made a noise high in his throat, a quiet, sad, pained noise."For fuck's sake. Just let me do something for you. Jesus Christ."

  
"I.. I don't want you."  
  
Stung like an icicle through the heart.  
  
"Don't want you to see me like that."  
  
Icicle melted and heart split right in two. He was doing it again. He was pushing in on all of Nick's boundaries. He was a shit person.  
  
"Don't want you to think of me like that."  
  
Christ almighty. He crouched down and took Nick's hands and held them in both of his. "We're friends, ain't we?"  
  
Nick's eyes closed. He nodded slightly.  
  
"I'm going to think of you like a friend. I'm gonna think you're nosy and self-righteous and funny and kind. Nothin' that happens today is gonna change that."  
  
Nick looked at him, sadness or pain or something else in his half-lidded eyes.  
  
"You're going to be okay, Nick. We're both gonna be fine."  
  
"Okay."  
  
His voice was so soft Hancock wasn't sure he heard him right. "Sorry?"  
  
"If you're willing to hang around for this... I don't..."  
  
"Anything you need I'm here for."  
  
"Yeah. I just... keep your distance, okay? I don't want you to..."  
  
"Sure thing, Nick. Whatever you want." He crouched there for a minute--maybe he could, maybe--but Nick just closed his eyes again and turned his head away. This was what he wanted.  
  
Hancock walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

Staying away was easier than he thought it would be. He walked the perimeter a couple of times, killed a lone bloodbug that had strayed north, and crouched down by the turret for a while. It seemed easier than being up there with Nick.  
  
He got to where he sort of liked the turret. Good turret. Reliable. Didn't say much, but kept you company and reliably whirred away as it kept watch. If he'd had a fedora he would have put it on the turret and called it Nick Jr.  
  
He had to keep reminding himself that this was what Nick had asked him to do. He'd asked him to stay away. Hancock knew that. And yet he kept thinking about all the people who'd died or been hurt or screwed up because he hadn't done nothing. He kept thinking about all those ghouls his own brother had thrown out, and how he'd done nothing. He'd done nothing, and some of them--a lot of them--had died.  
  
And now he couldn't help thinking that Nick, actual Nick, the one who'd saved his life too many times to count, was going to die.  
  
But he couldn't do anything about that. He'd already established that several times over. If Nick didn't think Sturges of all people could fix him, there was no way Hancock could do anything for him.  
  
Nick Jr., though, he could fix.  
  
The little turret was still whirring along, but with a duck-like squawk each time it turn to scan the other direction. That would be easy enough to fix--all it needed was a little oil.  
  
Problem was, the workbench was up by the real Nick.  
  
It'd be okay, he thought. He'd just duck up, maybe give Nicky a little encouragement, grab the oil, and then scram.  
  
He shuffled a little as he stood there staring up at the building. It would be fine, he told himself. Just fine.  
  
He walked up to the shelter, going over in his head what he would say if Nick were to see him. He negotiated his way around all the junk the raiders had left behind and actually let himself think for a second that maybe he'd be in and out without a problem. But as he got up to it he heard the sounds. Scared, panting, desperate sounds.  
  
Ah, shit, he thought to himself, started to turn back, only to walk directly into a garbage can full of tin cans that clattered everywhere. Who the hell left tin cans...?  
  
Nick's breathing tightened up, like he was listening, like he'd heard him. Wasn't any turning back now. He kicked most of the cans back toward the pile and walked around the wall.  
  
Nick looked bad. The light in his eyes was faded and he was writhing on the couch, hands shaking and pressing at the holes in his skin. He looked so bad that for a moment Hancock thought about making a run for it anyway, but as he was tensing up for the sprint Nick's gaze fell on him. His face was tight with pain.  
  
"What the hell do you want," he said.  
  
That sounded like hate in his voice, so much hate that Hancock froze in place. He tried to talk and only managed to make a single squeak of a noise.  
  
"What do you want, goddammit?" Nick raised up for a moment on one arm before collapsing. "I can't hold your damn hand. I... ergh..." Something low and ugly growled in his throat and he curled into himself. "I told you to leave me alone."  
  
Had he? Hancock didn't remember those exact words but that didn't mean shit. Sometimes the mentats wreaked hell on his short term memory. Fuck, he'd known this was a bad idea when he started out. Shoulda just let Nick do what he needed to do and not gotten involved. Should've... should've...  
  
Nick sobbed. Just, just straight up sobbed, and it scared the bejesus out of Hancock. "You gonna be okay?"  
  
Nick didn't answer. He was picking at his shirt with one hand, the other still pressed tight against the hole in his neck.  
  
"Nick? Did you hear me?"  
  
"I'm not gonna hold your hand through this," Nick said, and it was all but a scream. Hancock winced and glanced around the perimeter. "God. If you're not gonna help then get lost."  
  
He swallowed and swallowed but couldn't quite clear his throat. "What can I do?"  
  
Another sob from Nick, and his fingers ripped into his shirt. "You... you can take the gun and use it."  
  
Suddenly Hancock was on the outside looking in. He looked like shit, he realized. Not his usual roguishly handsome self. Must have been the nuke to the face.  
  
"You hear me?"  
  
He wandered around and around himself. How to get back in? Wasn't sure. This hadn't happened since the last time he got a little crazy with the Day Tripper, and he couldn't quite remember how that particular experience had ended.  
  
"Just put the damn bullet in my head and this can all be over."  
  
Elbowed himself into his own skin but still felt weird. Like he still was a separate thing, wearing a meat suit. Damn depersonalization.  
  
"John, please."  
  
He steered his body over to the couch and folded up the knees so it was kneeling beside Nick. "I can't do that. What if... what if I get you some Med-X?"  
  
Nick looked at him, eyes fading in and out. "You have some?"  
  
"Yeah. Two syringes. Would that make it any better?"  
  
"I d... M..." Nick's other hand came up to paw at his throat. "If you... straight into the.. there's a port, here..."  
  
With the big rubbery hands he'd never noticed were so big and rubbery he pried Nick's hands away. At first he didn't see the port and he was afraid Nick meant the one he'd seen earlier, the one so low in him, but Nick's fingers flitted around the base of his throat and by leaning in a little he could just make out what seemed to be another port, just above where his breastbone would have been if he'd been human. With his collar undone it was still hidden by the tattered skin of his throat and chest, but there was enough of a hole in his neck to locate it.  
  
"John?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." He reached into his pocket and managed to stab himself with one of the needles, pulled it and the other syringe and the jar of buffout, only managed to catch the other needle between his fingers. The jar bounced away. "I can do that." Nick was still breathing hard--why did he even need to breathe, anyway? why should a synth need to breathe?--and curled nearly double over the old wound in his middle. He looked up at Hancock, and Hancock couldn't even name all the things he saw in Nick's eyes. "Just need you to lay still, alright? Don't wanna... don't wanna miss."  
  
Nick still lay shaking and looking up at him, so Hancock pushed gently on his shoulder to tip him back and get at the port. His own hands were shaking now--great, he didn't even really live in his own body but still got the shakes--and with the back of his arm he pushed Nick's chin up away from his chest.  
  
"N..." Nick's voice faded away before he got a word out. No? Was he saying no? Hancock froze up, looking at him sideways. He wasn't going to do this if Nick didn't want it, yeah, Hancock was an asshole, but an asshole who understood the concept of consent, but he didn't know how else to help...  
  
Nick's metal hand closed around his shoulder and squeezed. It was a little too tight, probably left a bruise, but that was the least of his worries.  
  
"N..." Nick repeated, then closed his eyes for a moment as if he were gathering up his strength, looked up at him and tried again. "Not your fault."  
  
That hadn't even been what he'd been worried about, but it made Hancock want to cry. "Yeah." He ducked his head so if he did cry Nick wouldn't see, and slipped the needle into the flesh above the port.  
  
"Ah..."  
  
The noise Nick made sounded scared and Hancock quickly looked up at his face, but Nick hadn't moved, had in fact stopped moving but for the shaking. "Nick? You okay?"  
  
Nick closed his eyes and only opened them again halfway. Seemed like a nod, or crying, or... he didn't know. He injected the Med-X into the port, did the same with the other syringe. With each needle Nick went stiff all over again, and Hancock deposited them in the end table beside the couch and petted his hand over Nick's head.  
  
"Not..." Nick mumbled. "Not your fault..."  
  
He wanted to say he knew that, that he understood and that he didn't blame himself, but Nick repeated the words, again and again and again, and he realized Nick probably didn't know what he was saying. He was hurt and confused and... and scared.  
  
Hancock tried swallowing again, just to see if it would take this time, and it didn't. He switched on the radio on the end table. DCR came in nice and clear. Too bad it was playing Skeeter Davis and "End of the World."  
  
"I promise this isn't like an omen or anything," he said, but Nick had quieted down a lot. He just looked, at nothing in particular. "Here, lemme..." He lifted up Nick's head and slid himself in behind so that Nick could rest his head in his lap. Nick moaned as he moved him and if he'd been totally in his own body Hancock would have been neck-deep in anxiety and guilt and god knew what else. "It's fine. We're gonna be fine."  
  
Nick's hand, the one with some skin still on it, reached slowly up, feeling its way over his chest until Hancock took it in his own. He almost wanted to cry.  
  
"Not..." Nick mumbled softly, but when Hancock squeezed his hand he fell silent.


	6. Chapter 6

He must have fallen asleep like that, because he woke up to Nick shifting uncomfortably against him. His face was strained, but he didn't seem to be hurting as much as before. His undamaged fingers had hooked around the hole in his throat and rubbed at the skin.  
  
"You okay?" Hancock asked him.  
  
A small, pained noise came from his throat.  
  
"Forget," he said, his voice almost a croak. "Always forget how bad it gets... in between."  
  
Even though he had no idea what that meant Hancock nodded. "You, uh... you over the worst of it?"  
  
Nick shook his head, closed his eyes, shrugged. "Hard to tell. Med-X... hard to tell."  
  
God. What if this happened again? What if it got bad, what if Nick asked him to... He was out of Med-X. Maybe the raiders had left some lying around, he should have looked, should have thought ahead.  
  
"'m sorry."  
  
"Geez, Nick..."  
  
"Shouldn't've said. Shouldn't've asked"  
  
Nick's metal fingers were picking at his shirt again. He was working holes into it where his fingertips were pressed. Hancock wanted to take his hand, make him stop, but maybe the alternative was hurting himself, picking holes into his skin.  
  
"Didn't want you to see that. You shouldn't have to..."  
  
"But I did, Valentine."  
  
Nick fell silent. Somewhere way off in the distance gunfire echoed across the commonwealth.  
  
"Look, do you need more Med-X? I don't have any on me but you'd think one of the raiders oughta have had some lying around. Or I can go see where my stash got dumped, maybe one survived." He started to get up but when Nick's head shifted he groaned, so deep and then it turned into a whine that Nick cut off  sharply. Hancock hastily returned to where he'd been. "Shit, Nicky, I'm sorry, I didn't even think..."  
  
"No, no, you're good. Ah..." Nick started to get up on his own. His arms gave out under him like it was nothing and he fell back. The noise he made was almost like crying.  
  
"Look, don't even worry about it, you're not bothering me."  
  
"Didn't want to put that on you." Nick took a shallow, shuddering breath. He was crying, Hancock realized, as much as a Gen 2 synth could. "'m sorry. Shoulda... shoulda just got it out of the way before this. Before Nora..."  
  
He was looking everywhere but at Hancock's face, and as he looked Hancock realized. Sure, he was still hurting, but that wasn't the whole of it. "Nick, are you... You're not..."  
  
Nick winced.  
  
He was. He was embarrassed. And it wasn't like Hancock could blame him. He wasn't forthcoming with personal stuff, not like Nora was, for sure, and it seemed like he put a lot of effort into appearing steady and reliable. Hancock could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Nick without the hat on, and now he'd seen... a whole lot more than he'd bargained for, he thought, looking down at the fedora still crumpled in the dirt. "I mean, you don't have to be..."  
  
Nick's fingers curled around the flesh of his neck.  
  
"I'm sorry, I should've just left you alone. I should've done what you asked. But you... you don't really want me to..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, and could barely bring himself to touch Nick's head. Would that even kill a synth?  
  
"There's days," Nick said wearily. "Days when it'd be easier."  
  
He knew how that went--sometimes he wanted something similar. "Aw, Nick."  
  
"Don't."  
  
Don't what? But Nick didn't say. He looked so tired. "You should get some sleep, Nick."  
  
At that Nick chuckled softly, and Hancock's heart perked up just a little. It was just a little piece of the old Nick again. "Can't. You know that."  
  
"Yeah, I guess. Wish I had more Med-X for ya. I can go look, if you want, and after that I can get out of your hair. Uh, in a manner of speaking."  
  
"Already looked. When you were..." With a shaking hand Nick waved off at the stairs up to where the mattress lay. "Probably better. Just gotta... I'm just gonna wait it out. Got a little of it still in my system, maybe that'll get me through the worst of it."  
  
His shirt was hanging open again, Hancock realized. The hole in his middle was still there but it seemed to have stopped bleeding. It was just a dark space filled with mechanical parts, just beyond Nick's chest.  
  
"Super mutant."  
  
Immediately Hancock sat up straight, reaching for his shotgun and jostling Nick, and though Nick tried to stifle the moan he heard anyway. "Shit, where...?"  
  
"No." Nick pressed at his head with the heel of his good hand. "Christ, ah... You were watching again. The, uh, the one you were looking at. Super mutant gave that to me."  
  
"Oh." He sank back down, looked at the hole again, wondering, what the hell did you have to do to a guy to punch a hole in him like that, before he realized what he was thinking. "Wait, Nick, you don't gotta tell me. It's none of my business."  
  
"Lost a lotta coolant that day." Nick kept going like he hadn't even heard. "That one needed Sturges. Could've overheated, or else would've had to... had to shut down. Risk hurting somebody else if..."  
  
Still unsure if he was supposed to be hearing this, Hancock gritted his teeth and looked straight ahead at the workbench across the way.  
  
Nick's voice was softer now. "You've seen what happens, right? If power armor, if a sentrybot, if they overheat? Fusion core just melts down."  
  
"Nick..."  
  
"Goes up like that." Nick made like he was going to snap his fingers but couldn't understand why the metal fingers didn't snap. "Like... like..."  
  
Hancock wondered if he even knew what he was talking about. Maybe this was just to take his mind off everything. His voice sounded almost like a laugh, that chuckle that was slightly higher than his usual tone. Maybe that piece of the old Nick he'd thought he'd seen... maybe he hadn't been laughing at all.  
  
"Woulda killed the mutants, natch. Woulda, woulda killed Nora too, though."  
  
"Nora was with you?"  
  
"Nora was with me?" he echoed, shifting uncomfortably. Now he was picking at his skin, too, with his bad hand, and Hancock wrapped his own around it. It kept twitching in his own, like Nick wasn't aware of doing it. "Yeah. Yeah, Nora was there."  
  
"Is the Med-X wearing off, or are you just getting loopy there?"  
  
He pressed the heel of his good hand against his forehead again. That answered that question.  
  
"You want me to go look, or you want me to stay with you?"  
  
"Mmhm."  
  
Didn't really answer his question. "What about a stimpack? Would that help?"  
  
"I tried." Nick's metal hand kept tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing, in Hancock's, like a tremor he couldn't quite control. "It doesn't."  
  
So how was he supposed to fix it? Deep down Hancock knew the answer; he wasn't. It was exactly like the ghouls from Diamond City. There was nothing he could do to fix this.  
  
"John?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"John?"  
  
"I'm right here, Nicky."  
  
"Hate to ask you this."  
  
Immediately he was back on high alert. Something he could do to help? "Anything you need."  
  
"Do you... christ... do you have any more chems on you?"  
  
"Just that one jar of Buffout. It's maybe half full, do you want...?"  
  
"I can't swallow those."  
  
Yeah, he'd kind of figured that. "Sorry, man. I know I fucked up with those raiders. Is there anything else I can do?"  
  
"Heh."  
  
Was that a laugh? What did that mean? "I'm serious. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."  
  
Nick raised his good hand, still trembling a little, to the side of his head. He pantomimed pulling a trigger.  
  
"God, Nick."  
  
"Only thing you're gonna be able to do to make it hurt less."  
  
"I'm not gonna put you down."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Then why do you keep asking?"  
  
Nick didn't answer. Instead his good hand let up on the pressure it was putting on his forehead and creeped over to Hancock's hand holding his own. Hancock put his free hand on Nick's for a moment, a little pile of hand-holding he hoped was comforting, pressed gently, and went back to stroking Nick's head.  
  
"Stay with me?" Nick asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.  
  
"Yeah. I'm right here with you, Nicky."


	7. Chapter 7

The worst of it was over after all.  
  
Nick didn't sleep, not really, but it seemed like the synth equivalent to a doze that he went into. Stopped moving, that fake breathing thing he did slowed down, his eyes closed. Hancock had seen him do it before for a couple of minutes at most when he ran diagnostics. He wasn't so sure Nick had chosen to do it this time. The twitch or tic or whatever it was in his bad hand had stopped.  
  
As for himself, Hancock had settled back into his body pretty well, but that also meant he was starting to feel some shakes of his own. How long had it been since he had taken any chems? A while. He tried not to let it get too out of control, because god knew he didn't want to wake Nicky up, but the closest thing he could think would help was the buffout, and that had rolled way out of his reach.  
  
He checked the Med-X syringes in the end table. Didn't expect anything to come of it, but there was just a little bit in one of the syringes. He already had the needle in his arm before he realized that he probably ought to give what was left to Nick. Too late now.  
  
God. What was he gonna do if Nora turned up?  
  
Hadn't even thought of that. But Nora would probably be through sooner rather than later to set up one of those Minuteman radio beacons, and he was pretty darn skippy that Nick wouldn't want anybody else to see him like this.  
  
Maybe he could radio ahead, tell her they needed a little more time to deal with the raiders? No, he knew Nora, she would sent some minutemen along as back up and then that would just be even more people.  
  
He was giving consideration to an idea he'd gotten from a story Nick had told him once, thinking about just walling Nick up in the shelter so nobody could look at him, when Nick coughed (why did he cough? he didn't have lungs--did he?) and woke himself up. He blinked (the light in his eyes was a little stronger than it had been, which seemed like probably a good sign), then looked up at Hancock.  
  
"Thanks for keeping an eye out," he said. "What'd I miss?"  
  
"Not much." It was probably just the Med-X sinking in but he felt incredibly relieved. "You okay?"  
  
Nick flexed his fingers, tipped his head from side to side, and put his hand back to the hole in his throat. "Better than I was. Still a little sore, but I'm used to it." He started to sit upright and hissed a little as he went. Hancock wasn't sure if that was Nick indicating that he still hurt, or if there was some air leak somewhere in him, but he braced an arm against Nick's back to help him sit up. "Thanks." Nick swung his legs down from the couch and curled up over himself, but when Hancock reached out he waved him off. "I'm fine. Gimme a minute."  
  
He could hear fans whirring somewhere in Nick, and a grinding. Grinding gears? Was something broken? Oh god, something really had happened to Nick after he got splattered by that mini-nuke, something bad that he hadn't brought up and now he had something broken--  
  
Oh, wait. That was his teeth grinding. Hancock eased up on his jaw a little.  
  
As he was ramping down the panicking Nick gave a sigh and straightened up a little. "Okay. Let's get back to work."  
  
"Just like that?" Hancock's jaw tightened again and he had to consciously ease off it.  
  
"Yeah. Why? You want to debrief or something?"  
  
"No need to be filthy, Nick." Nick's eyes didn't roll, because they couldn't roll, but he had an expression that said he would being rolling his eyes if he could. "I kinda do, though. Look, you know I don't scare easy, but you scared the daylights out of me."  
  
Nick looked over to the workbench opposite them. "I know. I'm sorry, John."  
  
"No, don't apologize. I get why you said the things you said. I just want to know you didn't really mean them."  
  
Nick said nothing.  
  
"You didn't, right? You were just... I don't know... reacting in the moment or something? You don't actually want me to, like..."  
  
"I don't know what you want me to say."  
  
"Obviously I want you to say you didn't mean it." Again Nick said nothing. God, that boded well. He felt like a wild carrot flower wilting in the frost. "You did mean it, huh?"  
  
Nick shrugged and tilted his head. "Some days are worse than others. It's not a constant thing. It's just something I have to live with."  
  
"Dammit, Nick, that is not what I wanted to hear."  
  
Again with the shrugging. "You gonna tell Nora?"  
  
What did that have to do with anything? "No. Why would I tell her? If you want her to know that's your business."  
  
Nick closed his eyes. "You're a damn good friend, John."  
  
No, he wasn't. He really wasn't. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have butted in. Should've..."  
  
"...just left me lying in the dirt?" Nick asked wryly. "I appreciate your help. I've never had anybody with me through it before. It was... it was better. Helped to hear your voice. Gave me something else to focus on."  
  
Hancock fixed his own gaze on the workbench so he wouldn't have to make eye contact. He could feel Nick looking his way. "If you need help again, next time... Obviously I can't just waltz into Diamond City, but if you want to come out to Goodneighbor when it gets bad I can find a place for you. Not even in the hotel, if you don't want, 'cause I know you probably don't want to be around other people. I got these warehouses and there's still some mattresses and shit set up there from the last time the triggermen tried to move in. I can get Fahrenheit to find somebody to clean them up and then next time you have to, you know, there'll be a place for you. I can come out and keep an eye on you, and if you decide you want to be alone, that's okay too." There was more he wanted to say, a lot more, but unlike Nick he actually had a reason to take a breath.  
  
"Thanks." Nick's eyes weren't on him anymore. When he looked over they were closed. "I'll keep it in mind." His good hand was pawing at the hole in his belly now. Maybe it was a nervous habit.  
  
"Oh, hey. Came up here to get some oil for the turret. You want to come along and help me fix him up?"  
  
Nick shook his head. "I don't think I should be up walking around just yet." He was still rubbing at his skin and Hancock pushed his hand away. "Sorry."  
  
"Don't apologize to me, it's your body, ya dummy."  
  
Nick chuckled a little, but was cut off by a groan. "John, I..."  
  
Hancock stayed perfectly still, like Nick was a radstag liable to take off running if he moved wrong.  
  
"I... huh... thank you."  
  
"You don't gotta thank me."  
  
Nick didn't even seem to hear him. He turned and looked into Hancock's eyes, and Hancock had never been so close to him while making eye contact. "For everything. Thank you."  
  
Hancock swallowed hard and thought to himself, do something, you idiot, acknowledge what he said, tell him he's welcome or he doesn't have to thank you or...  
  
Instead he slammed into Nick, both arms around him, and held on for dear life.  
  
Nick made a noise that wasn't quite a groan but wasn't quite crying, but he held on back. He held on tight, and Hancock felt Nick's cheek come to rest against his head. His eyes felt damp.  
  
Goddamn Med-X, he told himself. Making him weepy.


End file.
